


Eclair's Harry?

by CottonCandyCloud142



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Crack, Gen, I Can't Believe I Wrote This, One AM ramblings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-27
Updated: 2020-12-27
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:27:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,111
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28367628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CottonCandyCloud142/pseuds/CottonCandyCloud142
Summary: Harry gets an eclair for a wand. It’s not a wand. It’s not even magic. But it works. Shenanigans ensue.Crackfic.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 8





	Eclair's Harry?

**Author's Note:**

> Blame my imagination. I don't even remember how I got the idea for this thing.  
> Maybe I was getting dessert. Idk.  
> Enjoy my one AM ramblings.

“Ah, yes, Mr. Potter,” Olivander said, gazing upon the boy. “I was hoping to see you soon.” 

Harry looked around the room awkwardly. “Um, shall we start then, Sir?”

Olivander brought him wand after wand, but none of them seemed to do anything more than lay there like the twigs they had once been. 

“Er, are you sure these are wands, Sir?” Harry asked, after seeing the dozenth or-so stick that hadn't even been placed in a box. 

“Yes, yes, I am very sure.” Olivander scoured his shelves for a wand he had not yet shown his customer. “Ah, perhaps this one?” Harry tried the wand, but all it did was lay there. Ollivander sighed. “Perhaps we should break for lunch, Mr. Potter.” 

Harry agreed. Ollivander may have been strange, but surely his food would be edible. 

After they had polished off a few sandwiches and a glass of butterbeer each, Ollivander brought out dessert. A few sugary macarons, and a plate of eclairs. 

Ollivander ate three of them himself, leaving one for Harry. And when he reached for it…

“Sir, thank you for lunch. How much do I owe you for my wand?” 

Ollivander looked at him as though he had gone crazy. “Mr. Potter, we haven’t yet found you a wand.” 

Harry tossed the eclair into the air, catching it in his right hand. “But you have, Sir. I think this one shall work perfectly. How much?”

Ollivander sighed. “Free of charge. Good luck...” As the boy left the shop, he finished his statement. “You will definitely need it, Mr. Potter.” Ollivander picked up the dishes, muttering to himself. “An eclair for a wand. Pha! He must have gone mad.” 

* * *

“Are you doing magic?” Hermione asked on the train. “Let’s see then.” 

“Uh… alright,” Ron said hesitantly. “Sunshine, daisies, butter mellow… turn that stupid fat rat yellow!” A spark shot out of his wand, hitting Scabbers and causing him to run over to Harry. 

“Is that a real spell?” Hermione demanded. 

“I’m sure I can do it,” Harry said, taking his eclair out of his bag. Both Hermione and Ron stared at him. 

“...are you sure you don’t need to go to a hospital, mate?” Ron asked. 

Harry shook his head. “I’m fine. Let’s try that spell.” He brandished the eclair like a wand, repeating Ron’s messy incantation. Instead of a spark shooting out of the eclair, a glob of yellow custard filling fell onto the rat. 

Hermione looked disgusted. “How long have you had that in your bag?”

“Since I got it at the Alley,” Harry answered. Both of his new friends shuddered. “What? The spell worked, didn’t it?”

“I… I guess so,” Ron said. 

“It’s still not a wand,” Hermione muttered, leaving the train compartment. 

“She’s a bit mental, isn’t she?” Harry asked, offhandedly. 

“Uh, yeah….” Ron gulped. “She’s not the only one,” he muttered. 

* * *

“Mr. Potter,” Snape drawled from the dueling platform. “What. Is. That.”   


“My wand, sir,” Harry answered, holding his eclair. 

“And. You expect,” Snape continued, “to duel with it?” 

“This is a dueling club, sir.” 

Snape sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I don’t get paid enough for this. Get up on the platform,” he said, louder. 

Harry got up, facing Malfoy. “What’ve you got there, Potter? A stale breakfast?”

“One, two, three….” 

“Expelliarmus!” Harry yelled, getting close to Malfoy and hitting the wand out of his hand with the eclair. Everyone stared at him in astonishment. 

“It appears,” Snape said slowly, as if the words themselves physically pained him, “that Mr. Potter has won.” 

“But-” Malfoy started. “He- that’s- he’s got no wand!” 

“Is your eyesight starting to go, Malfoy?” Harry asked. “This is my wand. I’ve been using it since the summer before first year.” Malfoy shuddered, as did several people around him. 

* * *

“Harry,” Ron asked, one extremely late night after another party in Gryffindor tower. “What time is it?”

“Uhh… dunno, mate. One sec.” Harry grabbed his eclair. “Tempus!” He thwapped the eclair over Dean’s head, getting crumbs all over the boy’s pillow.

“Ugh, who the heck is getting me up at two in the freaking morning?” he groaned. 

“Two in the morning,” Harry answered, climbing into bed. 

“Mate, you’re mental,” Ron said. 

* * *

“Harry,” Professor Lupin asked warily. “Why have you brought an eclair? I told you I was teaching you the Patronus charm, and that requires a wand.” 

“Oh, but this is my wand, sir,” Harry answered. 

Lupin suddenly looked very tired. “Of course, Harry. Here is the wand movement….” 

And though Harry didn’t get it in that lesson, nor any of the ones after, all was not lost. On the night that he was to free Sirius, using Hermione’s time turner, he was confident he could get it right. 

“Expecto, Patronum,” he said wearily. “EXPECTO PATRONUM!” Harry yeeted his eclair, hardened from years of use and slightly bent from his grip. 

It looked, if one looked very, very closely, a bit like a boomerang. 

The eclair smacked into one of the Dementors, causing it to fall to the ground. The eclair curved in a circle, hitting each dementor in the face and causing them all to fall down like toddlers playing ring around the rosy. 

Harry laughed, cackling madly as he returned to the infirmary with Hermione. 

Dumbledore checked him into St. Mungo’s the next day. 

* * *

“Ack! Sirius!” Harry exclaimed. “Put that down!” 

The Marauder had transformed into a black dog and picked up Harry’s wand -- er, eclair -- and walked off with it. 

“Drop it!” Harry ordered, seeing the weapon in his godfather’s mouth. “Drop. It!”

The dog whined. 

“Drop it, Padfoot! That’s my wand. No, don’t chew on it! Ugh! Stop it!” Padfoot finally spat out the drool-covered dessert onto the ground. 

Harry picked it up and gently hit his godfather over the head with it. “Bad dog!” 

* * *

“At lasst, Harry Potter, we are finally alone.” 

Harry knew he was never alone. Not really. He had his friends, the ghosts of his parents, the Horcrux hidden in his scar… he was never really alone. 

Voldemort had already hit him with the killing curse. That Horcrux was dead now. 

“We are, Voldemort. Ready?” Harry asked. 

“If all you have to fight me with is a busted up dessert, then yes. I believe I am.” 

Harry nodded and raised his eclair. 

“Avada-” the Dark Lord started, almost lazily. 

“AVADA KEDAVRA!” Harry yelled, once again yeeting his eclair. Voldemort’s eyes widened as it flew through the air, straight into his throat. 

He choked, trying to dispel it, but he couldn’t. 

The Dark Lord had been brought to an end… by a busted up, crusty, practically ancient dessert. 

Harry grinned. 


End file.
